She was the First
by therisingharvestmoon
Summary: He had to start somewhere after Lily's death... Had to start feeling if he was ever to redeem himself. SS/OC non-romance.
1. The First

_~The First_~

Few things shocked Severus Snape, and this was no incident to break the mould. But it certainly came close.

A few months into his tender career on the teaching faculty at Hogwarts, there was a mass capture of Death Eaters in Sussex. Seven of them were killed, eleven captured and sent to Azkaban, and a few – Lucius Malfoy and himself included – pleaded their innocence. He knew that out of all of them, he was the only repentant one. For whatever reasons, right or wrong, he would do his best to stay out of that place. The thoughts he would be left with when all his hope for redemption was sucked out…

The only preferable option then would be death. He could not –_could _not- live and not try to make things right for Lily. Even if it meant tolerating Dumbledore's attempts to make him feel welcome and any less heartbroken. The staff's glances of suspicion had slowly turned to looks of pity and wariness – no doubt the Headmaster's doing – and it was for this reason he remained in the safe, sub-terrainian enclosure of the dungeons.

It was a quite beautiful Autumn evening, the sun's taint of the sky was slowly fading, and it was too cold for any students to be wandering around, or for any staff to be lurking behind that young Professor Snape, checking up on how he was – and more importantly – what he was doing. He breathed deeply, the cold night air refreshing on his face. He wouldn't put any unnecessary strain on his relationship with his new master, and wander too far from the castle. Whatever the old man's friendly front appeared to be, Severus knew he was just another pawn. But perhaps friendly squabble with Minerva McGonagall and the odd uneaten sweet box from Dumbledore was better than the Cruciatus curse and a feigned interest in staunch Pureblood women with about as much appeal as a sharpened piece of chalk.

He was drawn from his thoughts by the sudden silence that enveloped the grounds, and the fact that he was suddenly aware about his distance from the castle near the Forbidden Forest. It was now completely dark, and though it was a completely preposterous and not to mention impossible notion, there was electricity in the air, as though someone were about to Disapparate onto the exact spot where he was standing. Without any further consideration on the ludicrousness of this thought, Severus whipped his wand out of his midnight robes and looked around warily.

Baring his yellowish, uneven teeth, Severus glanced around in the darkness, knowing that casting any light to allow him to see may alert anyone to his whereabouts. But there couldn't be anyone there… Not without breaching the school's security. He grasped the handle of his wand and stalked across the expanse of the grounds, keeping a constant eye out. He double checked the security charms on the gates and the woods, and those surrounding the Entrance Hall. Standing there at the doors of the castle, and hearing the footsteps of students making their way to their dormitories, it occurred to Severus that his feeling and the inspection of the school's security system might seem suspicious. If anyone had seen him other that Dumbledore… And even then…

Severus marched up the stairs to the Headmaster's office, barely speaking a word to anyone, communicating in curt nods. He barked the password ('Acid Pops') and stepped through the office door to the Headmaster's eccentrically decorated quarters, and was mildly surprised to see –

'Minerva?'

He was half-exasperated, half-relieved. Though he wanted to see the Headmaster, she was a perfectly acceptable substitute. The other staff members seemed insistent on treating him with total outward dislike and suspicion, or half-hearted and overdone attempts at courtesy. She did neither – simply questioned him openly when she suspected his motives, or offered him a Ginger Newt biscuit when she thought their conversations were taking a turn for the better. He enjoyed that kind of honesty, as much as someone in his position of secrecy and misery could. She smiled at the bewildered, then annoyed look on his face.

'Yes, Severus. The Headmaster has been called away for the next hearing… As I no doubt you've heard?'

Her tone was not one of accusation, but inquisition – perhaps to save him from discussing it. His lip curled into a bemused smirk.

'I have heard. I…' He didn't quite know where to begin, but he would not wait for Dumbledore to get back. If there was something wrong out there and he didn't say anything… No, he knew the consequences of keeping quiet quite well. He had to gain their trust somehow. _Regain, _Severus thought to himself. Being in the position seemed a lifetime ago… And in his weaker moments, they seemed only days ago.

'I can assume, then, that you would want to know of any strange activity going on here at Hogwarts? Considering the recent developments at the Ministry and… additions to Azkaban?' He tried to sound professional, but did not miss the flicker in her gaze when he mentioned the wizard prison. She looked at him very sternly.

'Indeed I would. What do you know, Severus? Has something happened?'

He frowned. It was difficult to explain, but he felt as though a false concern would be better than a slip. He could not afford to slip. If Minerva was any good an Occlumens, she would see that kind of honesty straight from his mind, and he would allow her too. Despite her lack of skill, she still sensed something, and her gaze softened.

He exhaled slowly. 'I was taking a break from my work in the dungeons for a walk, and had a feeling…' Severus hated feeling so intellectually inarticulate. But she remained listening intently. 'A feeling as though I were being watched. I know of the security measures, so I rechecked the charms and came here immediately when I had done so. I thought it would be prudent, my record considered.'

She leaned back in the large, ornate Headmaster's chair and stared at him levelly. 'You record considered, I believe I may ask Filius to make sure that these were not rearrangements of the school's security to benefit some sinister plan of yours.'

He opened his mouth to argue, but she help up her hand and actually smiled again.

'With your record considered, Severus, your correct undertaking of such a precaution may indeed earn you some leave from that record. Do I make myself plain?'

Strict but fair Minerva McGonagall was glad to see the young man's colour return to his thin cheeks.

'Yes, Minerva.'

There was a silence in which Severus gazed into the crackling fire, wondering if he should speak. He was about to ask her what she thought of the situation, when she spoke.

'I believe the Headmaster would like you informed, considering your… status,' he grimaced slightly, 'and the present danger you face. You out of all people should know that these deaths and arrests don't mean the end of things, not by far. There are still those whose loyalties remain with He Who Must Not Be Named, no matter what false beseeching they bray. Don't think I'm accusing you of anything,' she added quickly. 'I am just pointing out the dangers we still face. All of us, even you. Albus Dumbledore is the greatest wizard I know, and the best judge of character. Though I would never blindly judge someone based on the opinion of another… I… I trust you, because he does, and sometimes things are not completely black and white. Do you agree?'

His mouth twitched, as though he was going to smile at her imploring look. But then he bowed his head even so slightly, his greasy hair falling down past his overlarge nose. 'I could not agree more, Minerva. Please tell me what you had to say, what Albus thinks that I should know.'

The same reason why he referred to the Dark Lord as thus was the same reason he called the Headmaster by his title rather than his given name, though he had been encouraged to do otherwise on many occasions. That kind of friendly intimacy was not to be wasted on someone who took you under his wing just as easily and carelessly as he could have killed you on a hilltop little over a year ago. Both of those outcomes had proven equally devastating. A lot of time was spent on trying to make nice, and Severus wondered how cruel someone could be to try and make him live a happy, normal life when he was responsible for the death of the only person he'd ever felt anything for. His guilt was how he felt, not through the enjoyment of fruit flans, or pathetic simpering with a woman who was clearly placing her affections somewhere were they would not be returned…

Severus looked up at Minerva, who was studying him intently. He almost laughed. She probably though he was having some sort of existential struggle… Which in truth he had been, before the out of place mental jibe about Dumbledore's orientation. 'Where is he, really?' He did not need to read minds to know Dumbledore wasn't at a Hearing. He wouldn't leave after the arrests and murders of Death Eaters, some of which who had students at Hogwarts. No… It had no been far more serious than that.

Minerva frowned slightly, though Severus believed if he'd voiced his own mental deductions she would have been far more anxious. It was a better idea to let her speak.

'Albus received a letter late this afternoon from one Alastor Moody.' The "I'm sure you've heard of him" remained in her head. 'Three of the arrests and two of the murders were done by his wand alone… And he found… well he found… a young woman who was quite… Worse for weather.'

He raised an eyebrow at her awkward explanation, and felt a grappling hook clench his insides. She was avoiding telling him the nitty-gritty details, because it was something that he would have been involved in not a few years ago. 'Tell me, Minerva. What was the kind of torture used?'

His openness on the subject seemed to shock her somewhat. She swallowed, looking a tad ill.

'They're not sure yet – that's why Albus was contacted and that's why they're bringing her here. Poppy's on standby, and I suppose it was only a matter of time before you found out Severus. I imagine your Potions skill will be required almost definitely, as an antidote to poison, or pain relief…' She suppressed a shudder, letting him believe that there were more gruesome details that she knew but did not want to tell him.

Some part of him was glad that she didn't. He blocked out all feeling as he was so used to doing to stop the images from coming, but not quite fast enough. There were scenes of poor victims of his own creations bent and twisted in excruciating mental anguish, literally ripping out their hair from the root… A man no older than he screamed as his skin literally peeled away… The Dark Lord laughed and gripped the skin on the throat of a Muggle-born girl, pouring the dark concoction in her mouth and watching as she proceeded to wet herself and rub herself against the snake-like creature uncontrollably, until he had the 'excuse' to kill her…

He jumped a little.

'Severus?'

Minerva's voice was sharp, the concern she had been dancing around now plain in her tone. 'Are you alright?'

'Fine,' his voice was hoarse and distant.

The flames in the Headmaster's fireplace suddenly roared and crackled, green fire licking the carpet. Both Minerva and Severus stood apprehensively, to see what Dumbledore's expedition beheld.

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><p><strong>an -**

Foreshadowing? A little? ;)

Kind of... gruesome. Well, it will be - just a warning.

Title refers to the first person Snape cared about after Lily, rather than his first romance or anything like that. Based on the whole 'Only lately, those whom I could not save' comment from Deathly Hallows.

Review :)


	2. Out of the Ashes

_~Out of the Ashes~_

Out of the ashes, agile though elderly, stepped the graceful Albus Dumbledore in his now-dusty travelling cloak and Alastor Moody, who had recently acquisitioned the name 'Mad-Eye', and for a reason. Severus felt the newly-inserted magical, blue eyeball hone in on him immediately, the regular eye watching his step over the hearth, as he had slung over his shoulder what appeared to be a filthy, rolled up carpet. Dumbledore shook his head to Minerva slightly, and then fixed his butcher blue gaze on Severus. 'I am afraid I will have to ask for your help, Severus.'

Though Severus had expected a little more pretence, he raised his chin slightly, determined and ready for what the Headmaster had for him. His placement as Potions Master as opposed to head of Defence Against the Dark Arts and the occasional assisting in more gruesome maladies and accidents were of little consolation as time-fillers before the Potter brat started school. Nevertheless, it was tenfold better than service as a Death Eater. This improvement did not stop him from feeling apprehensive, however, and his usually cold palms were suddenly slicked with sweat.

'Yes, Headmaster.'

He heard Moody scowl audibly under his breath, still inspecting him with his whizzing, electric blue eye while carefully placing the pile of rags on an ancient-looking chintz settee Dumbledore had just conjured. It was only then that Severus noticed the slight movements of the bundle, and realised with horror that it was alive, wrapped in many layers of stinking blankets. Minerva had mentioned a young woman… but the shape he was looking at now… was closer to the size of a child. He glanced briefly at the Transfiguration professor behind him, who was looking as confused and anxious as he felt. The Headmaster merely inclined his head gravely, indicating that Severus should proceed. Aha, this was to be his punishment. The old man was devious as he was kind.

The chill that had crept up on him was just like the one he had felt in the chilly Autumn evening. The images in his mind of torture were burned into him just like the tattoo on his left forearm, never to go away. He was aware of Dumbledore, McGonagall and Moody watching him, and the eyes of all the portraits in the office bore into the back of his head from their frames. He lifted the blankets where he assumed the head was and jumped backward, causing Minerva to utter a small scream. Dumbledore and Mad-Eye merely observed.

Severus could hear his own breath in his ears, his pulse thrumming against his eardrums violently.

At first he thought it was a semi-decomposed Inferius, but his fast working brain had quickly led him to realise, in horror, that it was in fact the aforementioned tortured young woman.

Her eyes were sunk in their sockets, the flesh that had once been her cheeks had similarly retreated into her skull. She was so malnourished and tiny he could now see why she was wrapped in blankets. He stared around wildly at Dumbledore.

What did he expect him to do? She needed a Healer, not an ex-Death Eater? He noticed now that the blankets had been lifted that he was not the only one eyeing the old wizard with some suspicion. Minerva was looking away not, clearly too disgusted to lift her eyes, but Moody was staring at the Headmaster with both eyes, clearly thinking the same thought as Severus – she was better off at St Mungo's… or better off dead.

Severus turned back to the pathetic creature and drew his wand, his jaw set determinedly. For a moment the other wizards tensed - thinking he might just be putting her out of her misery – but he knelt down beside the settee, rolling up the sleeves of his robes, using the wand to scan her frail, corpse-like frame. She coughed, and her eyelids flickered and rolled. _Oh please, don't wake up. _Thankfully, her chest settled and she continued to take shallow gasps. The results of his examination were horrific. He doubted she could even swallow a Strengthening Draft, let alone regain any form of health or even consciousness. But he had to try. That conniving old bastard made sure he would try.

Minerva, who had since lost her strict attitude toward him, bent over the foot of the settee to assist him, while Dumbledore and Mad-Eye talked while the former wrote a letter to the Ministry, detailing his advice on the recent trials of the Lestranges to the newly appointed Minister Fudge. She seemed shocked by her superior's actions, and spoke to Severus in hushed tones instead.

'Do you think you can help her? Over… over anyone else?'

He looked up for a moment, cold black eyes finding hers.

'The symbolic irony of _why _I am doing this over more qualified Healers is not lost on me, Minerva. I believe the Headmaster sees fit that I prove my newfound loyalties in some profound way… such as, oh I don't know, trying to save the victim of the Dark Lord's torture? Perhaps not being able to?'

He looked back down, making a mental list of the Potions he would need.

'But… surely…'

Severus stared. 'Yes?'

She was rather distraught. 'Surely you _will?'_

'I will certainly try.' Though her tone wasn't accusatory, Severus felt the need to explain himself. 'There is no justifying my past action, what I saw happen, what I did and what I let happen… I was never this cruel.' He stated baldly.

Her gaze faltered and slowly she stood, unsure of what to make of this sudden confession.

'No. I didn't think… Shall I conjure a stretcher to take her to the hospital wing?'

'Please.'

McGonagall warned Poppy Pomfrey about the condition of the young woman before they brought her in, her shallow breathing the only sign of life as Severus helped the matron lift her onto a bed in the sick bay. Given the size of the poor thing, it was not a difficult task. As the slightly put out nurse fetched the Potions he required, Severus took the liberty of removing the blankets from the woman and Minerva brought over a stack of fresh, white linen. Gently, they made the bed around her, ensuring she was warm but not too snug as to suffocate.

Severus observed Minerva, who sure enough was still very pale.

'Maybe you could do some research on torture methods, and leave me to do this?'

She stared up at him gratefully. 'I will let you know as soon as I find anything, Severus.'

He inclined his head and she turned slowly, the door snapping shut softly as she left the room.

Perhaps Dumbledore's delegation of this gruesome task was because he knew Severus had already witnessed such things. What's another victim to him?

The thing the woman had become answered the question for him, wrapping her entire hand around one of his outstretched fingers with no more strength than a newborn child. It was horrifying, and yet a more positive sign than he could ask for. Clearly, she knew she was in trustworthy company. This small gesture meant more to Severus than anything had in the last half year - someone totally impartial in such a state was _trusting _him outright, without any prejudice or pity. The guilty knot which had gripped his intentines since he had misinterpreted the prophecy and marked the Potters as the Dark Lords target loosened ever so slightly.

He looked at the sunken, skull like face, and her eyes flickered again, opening this time.

Severus felt his heart rise in his throat and he gripped her hand gently in return. The eyes were a cool grey - large and fearful. Her breathing was still fearful. She tried to speak and choked on the half formed words, a pained look on her face.

'Refrain from speaking for the time being,' he spoke gently, 'it will hurt to speak and swallow.'

This allusion to food made her shiver. She was blinking and shirking away from the light, even though the glow of the candles in the hospital wing were quite dim. It seemed that sensory deprivation had been used on the woman along with starvation. He guessed Dolohov or Bellatrix, but that was not important for the time being. She was shaking like a quill caught in an updraft, cold despite the warm room. The eyes darted around.

'You are safe. You are in the hospital wing at Hogwarts.'

The second part of his assurance bore no recognition from the poor thing, so he repeated the first message. 'You are safe.'

Perhaps that was all she needed to hear or could comprehend for the time being, or perhaps she was not a witch.

'Here you are, Professor Snape.'

Madam Pomfrey set the tray down on the bed side table and looking fearfully at the malnourished girl, clearly unhappy about Dumbledore's specific instruction to leave the care of this particular patient to Severus and Severus alone. The first vial contained a thick, slightly pink potion, which would replenish her essentials vitamins and minerals, along with returning her thirst. Victims of starvation often had no sense of dehydration.

Realising that she couldn't lift her head, Severus gently lifted her up against the pillows with his own hands, and supported her neck with them.

'This will sting to swallow, I'm afraid.'

She nodded, leaning into the warmth of his hands, swallowing and nearly choking on the medicine from the gentle, dark stranger like a baby bird. Defenceless and half-dead, she allowed him to feed her several more potions which would gently expand her stomach, replace the adipose cells in her body, relieve her pain, calm her anxiety and after a few days, return her appetite. Once she was comfortably lying down again, Severus let her take some very tiny sips of water. She stared up at him with her large eyes, which he noticed were watering. He hesitated, then stroked her straw-like hair, the colour undeterminable by the amount of filth in it. 'You will be alright. You are safe.'

A guilty weight pressed into his gut and made his bile rise as he spoke these words, remembering all those he had helped torture who were not all right, and who were given no assurance of safety, least of all from him. This was surely a redemptive act - punishment - but he could not help feeling something that he had not felt since joining the Death Eaters, leaving them and since Lily Evans' death that he felt when he watched this pitiable woman slowly close her eyes, so close to death and believing his words of comfort.

Severus felt pity, and it filled the void.

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><p>an - PLEASE review! I would like to know what you think!


	3. Awake

_~Awake~_

Severus sat hunched over a stack of parchment in his office; the only sound in the room his soft breathing and the scratch of the quill on the essay of one Bill Weasley. Distracting as the boy was to his classmates; his work on calming draughts was surprisingly thorough. Though the long essay was refreshing, it was not brilliant enough to keep his mind from more concerning tasks. Assigning an easy 'A' to the bottom of the paper with black ink, Severus hastily rolled the parchment up with a flick of his wand and it neatly slotted in next to the rest of his finished marking on a shelf adjacent to the door.

Placing his raven feather marking quill down gently on the desk, he moved slowly, as though uncertain of what to do with his time. Generally, the copious amounts of idiocy he dealt with daily prevented him from becoming distracted, or reminding him of his talents, and how they were being drained by these snivelling school children. Of course, his first and second years were too afraid of him to wreak any serious havoc, and this attention made there work slightly higher than substandard.

Standing, he crossed the gloomy, candlelit office and stepped out into the cold, dungeon corridor. Even darker than his office, the coolness was somewhat refreshing.

For around ten minutes, he paced up and down the torch lit, stone hallway manically, knowing that the source of his uneasiness had sprung from the desire to march up to the hospital wing and see the young woman, as opposed to the usual book he'd usually get through in the evening lull. The Headmaster, in essence, had given him a pet project.

Panting, Severus stopped and leaned his head against the dully gleaming office door. Would he be this indecisive if this weren't the case? It had only been a few days, but was nursing this victim back to health really turning into some sort of remedy for his guilt and what Dumbledore believed to be an innate sense of pity and caring? Was he actually allowing Severus to dabble in the Dark arts from the defensive point of view, to keep him on side? Or perhaps it was a reward?

They all thought he was made of stone – they were wrong. To be a good Occlumens is to feel the emotions, then be able to hide any trace of it ever happening – not to ever feel anything at all. Severus made a fist and rested his forehead against it, as though his knuckles would literally work out his thoughts for him. Perhaps his anger at the Headmaster was premature – perhaps this delegation of goodwill was simply that, given with the expectation that Severus would be emotionally attached, and no less. What bothered him was not his own feelings toward the situation, but the fact that he was once again being used. Dumbledore would know, in all his cleverness, that the task would prove remedial to Severus, and by satisfying his own morbid curiosity and consideration for the girl, there was no differentiating between whose orders he felt on. He may sometimes wake screaming with the phantom burning in his left forearm, or cry for his idiotic mother or for himself after seeing Lily's body… knowing that it was his fault… But he would not let anyone – the Dark Lord or the Headmaster of Hogwarts – think they played some part in those times. He would not be manipulated.

It was this thought which spurred him on toward the hospital wing. He would go and spend some time with this poor person, because she and all those who had suffered because of the Dark Arts (including himself) were the reason he had chosen a side. Tangible and poignant, and belonging to no master but himself, were his emotions.

The memory of waking in a cold sweat because of some unknown horror still fresh, he met Madam Pomfrey with a stone face and cordial tilt of the head.

'Poppy, may I please attend to our young guest?'

She appeared from around the corner holding a bundle of bed linen and nodded serenely. Though her welcome would not be considered warm by general standards, the matron had become far less hostile toward Severus in the past seventy-two hours. He gave her a twitch of the lips that in his standards indicated a smile, and held his billowing cloak as he walked to the bed closed in my curtains at the end of the ward.

Severus peered in through the curtains before opening them and stepping in. She was much the same as he had left her the previous evening - laying on her back, asleep, breathing heavily and airily. Though less skeletal, she still appeared to have they grey skin tone of a dead body, sunken cheeks and had mostly remained unconscious. The first few potions he gave her she had promptly gasped and vomited them back up. When she finally managed keep one down, she had opened her eyes. It was not the first time, but now she seemed to have some sort of recognition of the state she was in, which for her was much more terrifying. Her throat too parched to shout or scream or speak, she had merely whimpered and shuddered and couldn't even lift her head from the pillow. He had given her a powerful sleeping draught, and decided to take action on the other physical injuries.

Her stomach - bloated from starvation - was covered in bruises and burns. Some proved more difficult to remove than others, depending upon how they had been inflicted. As gently and modestly as he could, Severus had applied salve to nearly all of her body, and was at present reluctant to see her mental condition now that some of these ailments had been treated. As far as he could tell, she had not been interferred with in any other way, so that was something, wasn't it?

'You're safe.' He murmered, lifting his fingers undecidedly, before she opened her eyes. He withdrew his hand, but repeated, 'you're safe.'

She blinked a few times and nodded, looking around feebly for the potion that the man in black would bring.

'No medicine tonight. I just wanted to make sure that you were all right.'

She stared at him for a moment, then smiled. Such a look of geniune affection and familarity seemed quite strange to him, though she had known nothing apart from tender care and assurance from him since her escape.

'I can't...' She croaked.

'Do not speak if it hurts you,' Severus warned.

'I can't remember anything... but my name.'

He looked around and, quite alone, placed a hand on her head. She looked up at him, lovingly and expectantly. She wanted to give that to him - that very last inch of herself that had not been siphoned away by the madness of her aggressors. He was quite touched, but kept a gentle mask of understanding and professionalism on his face.

'What is your name?'

'Daphne.' She rasped.

'I am Severus.'

There was no horrible flash of recognition in her eyes, but a weak smile and nod. All she knew of him was what she had seen here. She was judging him simply by these actions and his countenance, which was becoming less and less of a mask when she was concerned. This idea of a simple, basic Severus and not a two-toned, two-sided Severus judged upon his previous actions was a comfort, and a Severus he had not met with in a long while. 'You are safe, Daphne.'

She nodded, two large tears forming in her enormous-looking eyes, sparkling on her colourless cheeks in the soft candlelight. She hand wound around his, signalling that she could no longer speak, and he was gladdened by the contact. She gripped his sleeve her small hand did not untense until she was fast asleep, and only then did Severus leave.


	4. Hope

_~ Hope ~_

Unsticking his face from his pale forearm, Severus felt quite disorientated upon realising that he could not see. Carefully, and without disentangling Daphne's hand from his, he found his wand and drew it from his robes.

'_Lumos_.'

In the harsh, wand-lit glow, her face looked eerily grey. He felt as drained as she appeared, and just beneath that – wriggling toward the surface – was a steady feeling of accomplishment. The sight of her kept Severus grounded, as if his efforts were only the very beginning of something else. It had been a long time since he had cared about who lived or died, and he could almost not believe that he'd fallen asleep without some sort of meditation or Potion. They were certainly coincidental events.

Her arm still clung loosely to his, their forearms touching, the Dark Mark seemed to prickle against her flushed skin. Severus felt like the sickest kind of voyeur observing her in this way, yet the bruises around her eyes reminded him of a distant memory… of a young boy's face in the mirror, baring the scars of what his mother told the neighbours was an 'accident'…

He flinched, as if to escape the images his mind had conjured.

This time, Daphne stirred, and he allowed her to withdraw her arm into the warm sheets, reposition her stiff shoulders and open her eyes slowly. Much better than jolting away, darkness pressed against your eyes…

'Hello,' she murmured.

'Good evening. I must apologize for falling asleep – it is very late.'

She blinked her eyes wearily in response. Her breathing was shallow, her face battered and her large eyes confused. When they found him, however, they were full of a fond and childlike recognition.

'The light…'

Severus looked down to his wand arm to the glow as bright as a Patronus. 'Yes?'

He did not expect more than a vague recognition if she was a witch, or more confusion if before this heinous attack she was a Muggle. Her answer was humbling, reminding Severus that worth and status were not intertwined, and that had been his biggest falling. 'It's beautiful,' she croaked.

She fell asleep, but he didn't leave. He knew he wouldn't sleep here on in his bed (if at all), and so settled down in the hard-backed chair. For a long while, he simply watched her rest, her cheeks almost appearing pink in the light, and for a while he thought she might be all right.

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><p>For a second time, Severus jumped awake, though this time full light streamed in the stained glass windows of the hospital wing. His heart pounded montonously, knowing something had woken him.<p>

Madame Pomfrey leaned over Daphne, whose face - like the calm before the storm - had actually gained a healthy glow before saying goodbye to the world.

Outside - once again because of the hour and chill in the air - there were no students prowling around the grounds. The curls of steam of Severus' breath whipped around in his face as he walked, the ends of his cloak doing the same to his ankles. He stopped before reaching the edge of the forest, just as he had the night they had brought her here, and he sensed trouble in the near future. Not this morning.

_This _morning was not full of the same electricity, and tumultuous ripples of anguish could this time only be cound in Severus' chest, for her was the only person who knew or cared that Daphne was dead. He laughed humourlessly at the thought that Daphne was probably not her real name, merely an identification of some literary character she had loved, or someone she had known. She didn't even know _why _she had ended up in that state in the first place. They all ended up the same.

He stopped pacing, and as he did, the skill, icy morning picked up a fierce breeze, as though unhappy with him at the discontinuation of momentum. It Whipped through the strings of his greasy, black hair and tossled the dark branches of the forest behind him. A strange feeling not associated with the cold, numbness of the morning spread first through his fingertips and then into his arms and entire body, not touching the horrible brand on his left forearm. He allowed this to occur, careful to remember that it was only his personal catharsis, rather than an accomplishment.

He had _tried _to save her. He was not grieving her loss because of _who _she was, like Lily. He had tried, he was trying to undo his mistake. Nevertheless, he felt his face tighten when thinking of her, looking at his light and thinking it was beautiful. Not knowing any different... Did that mean he wasn't eternally damned? He could start again and do good?

For a long time, Severus stared out at the lake, imagining the look in Daphne's eyes to be the same as Lily's when they had sat by the beech tree. It had been, as they say, magic.

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><p><strong>an -** Yes, I know - you could dip bread in me and call me fondue I'm that cheesy. But I just wanted to write a bittersweet Severus Snape fanfic in this pre-Potter, post-Death Eater era. It doesn't really MEAN anything, but I hope you liked it. :)


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